“You’ve always been such a fucking slut,” Curt replied hotly. He lifted his hand into the air, like he’d done so many times before, and I automatically cowered, closing my eyes and shivering on the spot.
But the blow never came. Seconds went by and I heard a scuffle, then a loud curse. When I opened my eyes, I saw a security guard dragging Curt away and out of the building.
Another guard was standing beside me, looking at me with concerned eyes.
“Miss? Are you all right? Was that man bothering you?”
Just like when I’d fainted before, all of the attention in the lobby was now on me. I felt my cheeks blush crimson and all I could do was nod my head mutely.
The security guard who had dragged Curt away came back alone, narrowing his eyes at me.
“Do you work here?”
I nodded. With a shaking hand, I reached into my purse and pulled out my work badge.
“I’m on the ninth floor,” I said softly.
The guards took a brief look at my badge.
“Miss?”
I felt my heart sink. “Yes?”
“Could you come with us, please?”
With a leaden feeling in my stomach, I followed the security guards to a small office that I’d never noticed before that was located just to the right of the revolving doors. It was cramped and windowless and immediately, I felt suffocated.
“Would you like some water?”
I shook my head. “No, thank you,” I replied. “I should really be getting to work, I don’t—”
“This won’t take long,” the guard said. He looked at me closely. “Do you know that man?”
I held my breath until my lungs began to burn, then nodded.
“He’s my ex-husband,” I said shakily. “But we’re not on good terms.”
“I see,” the guard said. “We’ve made sure to crop his image from the cameras and we’ll be posting it here,” he said. “We’ll do our best to make sure that he’s not allowed to enter the building from now on.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Are there any resources that we can help you reach? A women’s shelter, perhaps?”
My cheeks burned with shame and I shook my head. “No,” I said. “Really, that’s fine. I ...” I trailed off. I had been about to say that Curt wouldn’t hurt me or anyone.
But I couldn’t lie.
“I’m fine,” I said hastily.
The guards exchanged a look.
“Really,” I lied. “But really, I should be going – I don’t want to be late.”
They both shrugged at me. “We’re not the police, miss,” one of them said. “We can’t keep you here.”
I bit my lip, then got to my feet and pushed my way out of that stuffy little office. The lobby had quieted down and I realized that I was going to be late – by approximately seven minutes.
Once, my boss had asked me if everything was ‘okay’ when I’d been two minutes late.
As I rode the elevator up to the ninth floor, my stomach churned and my heart raced. There were already wet pockets of sweat under my arms and my skin felt clammy and damp, as if I hadn’t showered for a week.
I began to shake. What was Curt doing, exactly?
Was he spying on me, or having me followed?
It was clear that he’d seen me with Dan ... which was all the more alarming considering that Dan and I had last been together in my apartment.
Did Curt know where I lived, now?
I knew he was deranged. I knew he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt me – he’d done it so many times before that he’d think nothing of putting his hands around my neck and squeezing until I couldn’t breathe and my face turned blue.
What if Dan was in danger?
The mere thought made tears spring to my eyes. Instead of walking to my desk, I turned the corner and speed-walked into the handicapped solo bathroom, making sure to lock the door behind me. I had been inside for mere seconds before the tears began to fall, hot and wet, down my cheeks. I sobbed silently and buried my face in my hands.
Dan was strong. He was muscular, and I knew he worked out.
But Curt was a beast – a huge, savage beast with no regard for human life. Dan would fight back, I knew, but Curt had a monstrous rage about him. He’d fly into a passion like an animal, fighting to the death.
The thought of him hurting Dan, the man I loved, was unfathomably painful.
In that moment, I knew what I had to do. If I wanted to protect myself – and protect Dan – I’d have to end things with my lover.
I’d have to break up with him, before Curt managed to ruin my life for the second time.
Hot vomit rushed into my mouth and I sped across the bathroom, falling to my knees and spewing into the toilet. The acrid taste made me gag and I coughed and choked, bracing myself against the disgusting surface of the toilet seat. Fresh tears flooded my eyes and I sobbed harder, covering my mouth with my hands so my wailing wouldn’t be overheard.
Still shaking, I slumped on the floor and propped my head against the toilet. It wasn’t fair – I’d worked so hard to free myself of Curt, worked so hard to build my own life.
And he’d come along and managed to break everything into fragmented pieces that now, I knew, could never be put whole again. I knew that I could be selfish, could keep Dan in my life, could keep doing what we were doing in the hopes of it leading to a real relationship.
But if anything ever happened to Dan, I knew that I could never life with myself. He had given me so much – hope, love, laughter.
I should be grateful for what we’ve already had, I thought. I should just be happy that I got to be happy again, even if it was only for a short time.
Those thoughts did nothing to stop the tears. I curled up, bringing my legs to my chest and burying my face in my knees. The thought of breaking things off with Dan hurt so much that I could hardly breathe.
I had to do it, though.
It was going to be the hardest thing I’d ever done – even harder than leaving Curt had been.
But if it meant that Dan would be safe, it would be worth it.
Even if it killed me.
26
Dan – Thursday
I didn’t get it. I thought that Lyssa and I had shared something really special, but maybe I had been wrong. Since I’d left her Brooklyn apartment on Saturday morning, it had been radio silence on her end. I’d texted a few times and even called, but she hadn’t replied or even emailed to say that she was having a busy time, or that she was sick, or any of the usual excuses.
Not to mention, she’d been a no-show to both of her scheduled appointments for the week. She hadn’t even called Alice to let her know that she wouldn’t be in.
She just didn’t show.
At first, it pissed me off. We’d had such a wonderful time together. Spending the night with her in my arms had been a transcendent experience, something that I knew I’d remember for the rest of my life.
And something that I wanted a hell of a lot more of. I wanted every night to be like that. I wanted to love her and hold her and let her know just how fucking perfect she was, and that I’d never leave her or hurt her. I wanted her to know how important she was to me, and how I’d have done anything to make her happy.
But she wasn’t exactly giving me the chance.
My anger subsided after a few days. After all, it was possible that she was sick, or something like that. I knew from more than one of my patients that the flu was going around, and that it was a nasty one.
It wasn’t like her not to call, though. I began to worry that something had happened to her. I even went to her apartment one evening and knocked on the door, then actually bent my head and listened at the keyhole. There had been nothing inside but silence, and I’d left her building feeling like a total creep and a weirdo for acting that way.
By Thursday, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I called Steven and asked if he’d meet me for drinks after work. He almost said no, but something in m
y tone must have clued him in. He finally agreed – although he didn’t sound thrilled about it – and I spent the rest of the day waiting on pins and needles to see if he’d have any news about the woman I loved.
That evening, I walked into a new pub – a faux-British place, done up in Union Jack flags and football banners – and ordered a whiskey at the bar. Steven was in a few minutes behind me, and he flagged down the bartender for a pitcher before he sat down.
“What’s going on?” Steven asked warily. “You sounded like shit on the phone.”
“Have you heard anything from Lyssa?” I asked.
Steven narrowed his eyes and slowly sipped his beer. “Why?”
“She missed two of her appointments this week,” I said. “That’s not like her – she didn’t even call to say that she wasn’t coming.”
Steven gave me a blank look. “You seem pretty invested in her,” he said in that same guarded tone. “What’s going on, man?”
“I’m ... concerned about her,” I said. It wasn’t a total lie – especially not after going to her apartment and finding it apparently empty.
Steven sighed and raked a hand through his hair.
“What?” I asked. “What is it?”
“What’s going on between the two of you, anyway?” Steven asked. “You don’t still have that stupid crush on her, do you?”
“What? No,” I lied.
Steven gave me a blank look. “You forget I’m your oldest friend, man,” he said. “You can’t fucking lie to me. That’s my sister we’re talking about.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Have you been taking advantage of her?”
“What?! No!” I practically yelled.
“Lyssa’s been through a lot,” Steven said. “She doesn’t need some other guy jerking her around.”
“I’m not some other guy,” I shot back. “She’s known me forever. I’m practically family, for fuck’s sake!”
Steven glared at me.
“You’re wrong,” I said flatly. “I haven’t been doing anything to make her uncomfortable – that’s the last thing that I’d want. Don’t you get that?”
Steven took a long swig of his beer, looking angrier by the second. Hot anger was rising in me and I knew that I should stop, knew that I should go outside and take five and cool down, maybe even bum a smoke for someone and try to chill out.
But now that I’d gotten started, I knew it would be nearly impossible to quit.
“You’re wrong,” I said again. “And right now, you’ve got your head so far up your ass that I’m surprised you were even able to meet me.”
Steven looked like I’d punched him square in the jaw.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean,” he growled. “What are you talking about?”
“Are you blind?” I yelled. “Meredith! You’re about to hitch your wagon to a woman who doesn’t give a fuck about you. She only wants money, and you’re an idiot if you haven’t realized that.”
A deep, beet-red shade of red began to rise up Steven’s neck.
“Even your fucking parents think that she’s about to take advantage of you,” I said hotly. “You know they had a prenup drawn up and she doesn’t want to sign it? She talked to me the other day, at breakfast, and asked me if there was anything I could do to help her find a goddamned way out of it!”
Instantly, the red shade disappeared from Steven’s face and he turned as pale as a ghost. I knew I shouldn’t have said it – or at least, not said it like that. But the words were out. They were hanging in the air, and I felt a cold blow to the gut. Slamming down the rest of my whiskey, I grabbed my coat and stormed out of the bar.
Outside, it was snowing and blustery but I hardly noticed. I stalked off in the direction of my apartment, my eyes narrowed and my gut and heart filled with a hot anger.
How had I managed to fuck everything up so perfectly? I’d ruined my budding relationship with Lyssa and trashed my lifelong friendship with Steven in less than a single week.
And a possibility – a terrible, horrifying possibility – that I hadn’t even considered was that Lyssa’s silence meant something very pointed.
That she’d gone back to her ex, the man who had abused her and nearly broken her spirit. The idea was so disgusting, so heart-wrenchingly awful, that I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.
Bracing myself against the wall of a building, I vomited.
27
Lyssa – Saturday
It had only been a week since I’d seen Dan.
It had also been the longest week of my life. Seven days of pure torture. I hadn’t been sleeping well. I’d had acid reflux and heartburn every night, sometimes so badly that I’d had to get up and go sit on the couch, just because it wasn’t as severe when I was sitting up.
I’d also been crying at everything. I’d managed to stop sobbing at the office, but sometimes I still sniffled through my tasks. I was sure that people had noticed, but thankfully no one had said anything.
By Saturday, Anna was about fed up with me. I’d canceled plans with her three times that week, and she showed up at my apartment.
“We’re going out,” Anna said firmly.
“What? Where? No,” I replied as I shook my head. “We’re not doing anything.”
“Girl, you need a brunch,” Anna said, just as firmly. “And I already got a sitter for Trina, so what? You’re gonna waste my forty bucks?”
“I can’t afford brunch,” I lied. “I’ve been eating so much take-out this week.”
That, at least, was true. Normally when I felt depressed I had next to no appetite, but this week I had been starving. My appetite had been incredibly mercurial, too. One night I’d ordered Thai and right after it had arrived, I’d decided that I’d wanted a pizza and breadsticks instead.
Guiltily, I’d ordered both ... and it hadn’t stopped me from eating almost all of the food in one sitting, something I usually didn’t let myself do. After all, I was already big.
I didn’t need to become a house, just because I was going through a bad break-up.
“Then I’ll pay,” Anna said. “Come on. Get dressed. We’re going.”
I looked at her wearily. “My hair is too dirty. I can’t go out in public like this,” I told her.
“That’s why God invented dry shampoo,” Anna cracked. “Come on,” she repeated. “I’m not leaving until you agree to come with me. I’ll just stand here, right in front of your door. Good luck getting to work on Monday.”
I sighed. “Fine,” I told her. “But just for an hour or so, okay? I’m exhausted.”
Anna rolled her eyes and shooed me off to the bedroom, where I changed into a loose pair of track pants and a hoodie. I rubbed some dry shampoo into my roots and pulled my messy red tangles into a bun. There was nothing I could do about the dark circles under my eyes, and I stuck my tongue out at my reflection before leaving the bathroom.
Anna and I walked out of my apartment and down the street, where she led me into a chic little bistro. We were seated by the window, and Anna ordered a carafe of mimosas.
“A carafe?” I asked her skeptically. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“I’m trying to get you to smile,” Anna countered. “And if it takes a little booze, so what?”
“What’s good here?” I asked, figuring that I could just order something quick, pay Anna for my share, and then duck out before I felt like crying again. Just watching couples around the bistro holding hands and cooing at each other made me feel nearly ill, and I sighed.
“Not sure,” Anna said. She narrowed her eyes down at the menu. “I don’t know – you want to split the Dutch baby with me?”
My stomach rumbled. “You go ahead,” I said. “I think I’m going to get the chocolate chip crepes. Or maybe the honey-maple sandwich.” Or both, I added silently.
The waitress arrived and took our orders – Belgian waffle with fruit for Anna and a double order of chocolate chip crepes for me.
“See,”
Anna said, after the waitress had walked off. “You were hungry. I bet you’re glad you came out with me.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Lyssa, you know you can talk to me,” she said. “And I know something’s going on. I can’t remember the last time a week passed without you wanting to stop by and visit Trina.”
“Work has just been really ... stressful,” I said. “I always feel like I’m not doing a good job.” I looked down at my hands as I spoke, hoping that Anna would buy the lie.
“Hmm,” she said. “Maybe you could find a mentor? You know, like someone who’s been there for a long time, someone who could help you out?”
I shrugged. “Maybe,” I said. “That might not be the worst idea.” Except, I thought. Then I’d have to worry about not crying in front of someone else, which would be just great.
The waitress arrived with the mimosa carafe – a huge, modern-looking piece of glassware – and set it down. She peered at us.
“Can I get you girls anything else?”
“No,” Anna chirped. “We’re good.” The waitress left and Anna turned to me. “So,” she began. “You wanna do the honors?” She gestured towards the carafe and I reluctantly took it in my hands. It was heavier than I had been expecting and my palms were sweaty. Before I could steady my grip on it, the carafe crashed to the table, spilling champagne and orange juice everywhere.
“Sweetie!” Anna gasped before I had a chance to react. Bright orange liquid was soaking into the tablecloth, the napkins, even the little paper doily underneath the flower vase.
“I ...” I opened my mouth to speak and that familiar feeling, that feeling I’d come to know so well over the last few weeks came rushing over me. My throat felt tight and squeezed and dry and raw. My eyes began to sting and burn and seconds later, there was nothing I could do to stop myself from bursting into tears.
“Oh my god, honey, it’s okay!” Anna said. She leapt up from her seat and darted over to me, wrapping me in her arms and holding me tightly. It felt so good to be held like that after days of feeling heartbroken that I didn’t even move – I just let her hold me and rock me like a child as the tears flowed freely.
Baby for Brother’s Best Friend: Brother’s Best Friend Book 1 Page 17
